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JOHN EPPS 



Frank Prentice Rand 



Pteaetxted by 

rite Roister Doistera 

1921 



JOHN EPPS 

A l)lay of M. A. C. in tke days of 71 



By 
FRANK PRENTICE RAND 



and t)resentcd Ly 

1 ne Roister Doisters 

at the semi-centennial anniversary celebration of the 
Massachusetts Agricultural College 

June 1921 



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Copyright, 1921 
Frank Prentice Rand 



THE KINGSBURY PRINT 
NORTHAMPTON, MASS. 







:^ 5 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE 

(In the order of their appearance) 

Prologue Carroll A. Towne 

Joey Willard C. Frost 

John Epps Carl M. Bogholt 

Mrs. Epps, his mother Eleanor W. Bateman 

Hillyard Epps, his cousin Robert F. Martin 

Kate Stevenson Frances B. Martin 

Col. Wm. S. Clark, Pres. of M. A. C Donald G. Davidson 

Dick, John's room-mate Lewis E. Dickinson 

Patsy Howard E. Weatherwax 

Hank George R. Lockwood 

Henry H. Goodell, Professor of Modern Languages 

Tscharner D. Watkins 
Charles A. Goessmann, Professor of Chemistry 

Emerson F. Haslam 
Levi Stockbridge, Professor of Agriculture 

Frederick V. Waugh 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I 

Mrs. Epps' living room in Ashfield, the 
town in which President Clark was born. 
Time, October, 1870. 

Act II 

John Epps' room in North College, the 
evening before the regatta, July 1871. 

Act III 

President Clark's office in the Botanic 
Museum, the following morning. 

Act IV 
John Epps' room, that evening. 

Between Acts i and 2, and 2 and 3, stereopticon views of the 
college, ancient and modern, presented by Prof. Frank A. Waugh. 



John Epps, his Ashfield associates, his college friends, 
his entire story, although presumably representative of 
the early seventies, are nevertheless wholly fictional. 
The famous Big Four of the Faculty, however, are be- 
lieved to be accurately historical; and the life of the 
College in those pioneer days has also been scrupulously 
portrayed. Acknowledgments are made to Doctors 
Tuckerman, Wellington, Lindsay and Brooks, Mr. 
Atherton Clark, and Professors Patterson and Prince, 
for helpful assistance. The author begs the indulgence 
of brother rhetoricians in view of certain minor liberties 
taken in the matter of punctuation for the sake of easier 
dramatic reading. The pictures of the cast appear- 
ing in this book were taken by Professor Frank A. 
Waugh. 



John Epps 



ACT I. 

PROLOGUE 

Turn back the clocks, my friends, 
Bid eciio speak: 

To let the sunlight once again 

Down through the mists of fifty years; 
To move familiarly with men 

Whom every Aggie heart reveres; 
To conjure back into our ken 

Old ways, old places, old ideas; 
To reaffirm our tribute then 

To Alma Mater's pioneers; 

Turn back the clocks, I say; 
For echo speaks. 



John Epps 9 

Scene; a rural New England living room by lamplight. 
Beside the usual ill-assorted furniture, a bureau, table, 
chairs and the like stacked in the middle of the room. 
Through a rear exit outdoors, John Epps and Joey, in 
work-clothes, are moving this latter furniture. They 
are just returning for the bureau when Mrs. Epps, 
effusive and maternal, appears from exit to right and 
speaks. 

Mrs. Epps — Careful, John; careful, Joey. Remember that 
bureau was your Uncle Henry's wedding gift. 

John — Yes, mother. 

(She follows to the door and speaks looking out.) 

Mrs. Epps — Have you plenty of bags and blanketing, John 
dear?. . . .Oh dear, I am so afraid that something will happen to 
that rickety old hayrack going down the mountains. . . . John 
dear. 

John — Yes, mother. 

Mrs. Epps — Hadn't you better tie the bureau to the bed- 
stead?. . . .It does seem as though those Riggs boys helped them- 
selves to more than their share of the room .... Where is the 
stove, John? 

John — Loaded, mother. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh.... I don't see it, John. .. .John, I don't 
see the stove anywhere. 

John— It's right in front of the bureau, mother. You can't 
see through the bureau, you know. 

Mrs. Epps — No-o-o, of course not. . . .John, you haven't 
put the stove right up against your Uncle Henry's wedding 
bureau have you? 

John — It's all safe, mother; don't worry. 

Mrs. Epps — Well. . . .but I wouldn't have anything happen 
to that bureau for a cat and seven kittens. Your Uncle Henry 
said that it was genuine mahogany rosewood, and your dear 
father used it all the days of his life. . . .1 wouldn't have. . . . 



lO John Epps 

(John enters stridingly, gathers up a coil of rope and is 
about to exit when his mother taps his arm and beckons 
him off stage to right. He throws the rope outdoors 
and follows her, shouting back to Joey.) 
John — Be taking out the chairs, bub. 

(Joey finally appears with lantern, drags one chair half- 
way to the door, sits thereon for a moment, goes then 
across left to mirror before which he poses and gesticu- 
lates oratorically, then comes to front of stage, arranges 
three chairs in a row and stepping back addresses them.) 
Joey — Gentlemen of the Congress! 

(Makes sure all the doors are closed and returns.) 
"Mr. President, I shall enter upon no encomium upon 
Massachusetts. She needs none. There she is. Behold her. 
Judge for yourselves.". . . . 

"What is it the gentlemen wish? What would they have? 
Is life so dear, or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price 
of chains and slavery? Forbid it. Almighty God.". . . . 

(Meanwhile the door to left is quietly thrown ajar re- 
vealing the face of Hillyard Epps. He is stylishly dressed 
in the fashion of the 70's. Joey at the height of his 
eloquence notices him and stumbles into anticlimax.) 
Oh! 

Hillyard — What's the matter, chappie, been having a tooth 
pulled? 

Joey — No. 

Hillyard — No? Well now. Old cow kick you through the 
milk-pail? No? Not that either. .. .Somethingyou ate? Castor 
oil, eh?. . . .Not colic. . . .Well I'll be darned if I can think of any- 
thing else that would make a boy raise such a hullabaloo as that. 

Joey — You needn't be poking any fun at me, Hillyard Epps. 
Just because you're a student at Amherst College. .. .And you 
needn't be putting on airs around here all the time either. 
Hillyard — Come, come. 
Joey — I guess I know something about you. 
Hillyard — Well what do you know about me, little Joe. 



John Epps II 

Joey — I'll tell Kate what I know if you don't watch out. 

HiLLYARD — Ha, ha. 

Joey — It would make you laugh out of the other side of you 
mouth if I did, I guess. 

HiLLYARD — Come, come, what do you know, you weasel? 

Joey — I know what I know. . . .Well, you needn't laugh. 
I guess I saw it myself. 

HiLLYARD — Well, out with it; what did you see? 

Joey — I saw our John wrastle you and put you on your back, 
down at the mill-pond, a year ago Fourth of July. 

HiLLYARD — Ha, ha, ha. . . .nonsense. 

Joey — Stop your laughing. Stop it I say. You. .you. .you 
dude! 

HiLLYARD — Where's Kate, Joey? 

Joey — I won't tell you. 

(Picks up his lantern and scuffles to the door, pausing 
however to throw back one grandiloquent defiance.) 

My voice shall ring in the halls of Congress yet. (Exit) 

(Hillyard goes to door on right and is about to rap when 
it opens and Kate comes in with a bundle.) 

HiLLYARD — Hello, Kate girl. 

Kate— Hello, Hillyard. 

HiLLYARD — What have you got? 

Kate — Something for John. Just a little surprise. Come 
help me hide it in the hayrack. (Both at left-hand door.) Could- 
n't we put it into something? 

HiLLYARD — Why not hide it in the stove? (She observes 
him intently.) 

Kate — . . . .No, 

HiLLYARD — Well, how would a bureau drawer answer? 

Kate — Yes, please. Just slip it in and shut the drawer tight. 
Thank you, Hillyard. (They re-enter.) 

HiLLYARD — I didn't find anything in my bureau drawer when 
I went off to college. 

Kate — No? Well, you surely could not have expected any- 
thing from me. Why that was three whole years ago. I hardly 



12 John Epps 

knew you then. And you wouldn't have looked at me anyway .... 
Besides you didn't take down your things, you know. I remember 
very well. Your father drove down with you in the democrat, 
and the hired man went ahead with the furniture. 

Hii.LYARD — Is there any particular virtue, do you think, in 
riding down to college in your own rocking chair? 

Kate — No; that did sound a little silly, didn't it? 

HiLLYARD — It makes a difference too, you know. John is 
going down to that new college at the other end of town. Colonel 
Clark's farmer college. I fancy it would have caused something 
of a smile if I had come rattling up to Williston Hall, surrounded 
by my lares and penates, in a hayrack. . . .As a matter of fact I 
don't intend to have John do it either. That's the principal reason 
I came over. 

Kate — I'll go call him. 

HiLLYARD — No, hold on, Kate. He'll be coming soon enough. 
I want to talk with you. 

Kate — Really? Wait then, till I get my knitting. 

HiLLYARD — You don't need any knitting. 

Kate — I don't? It looks as though you do not know your 
Aunt Augusta. 

HiLLYARD — Aunt Augusta be hanged! Confound it, Kate, 
I'm pretty much disgusted with this summer. It doesn't seem 
as though we had made much progress. 

Kate — Progress ? 

HiLLYARD — Come, there's no use in mincing matters. 

Kate — Remember your promise, Hillyard. 

HiLLYARD — Oh I remember it well enough. But the summer 
is over now and I'm going to talk out. I want you to know. . . . 

Kate — But of course I know already, Hillyard. It was a 
silly promise. You have been fair enough about it, but you have 
really broken it every day. You have been making love to me 
every single day . . . hold on . . . no, of course not in actual words, 
but in looks and actions and everything else. 

HiLLYARD — Well I didn't promise not to look at you, did I? 
Kate girl, you don't seem to realize that I am in earnest about 



John Epps 13 

this. When I get through college next June, I want you to marry 
me. . . .no, don't interrupt. . . .1 love you positively to distraction. 
Can't you believe that? 

Kate — Yes, Hillyard, if you say it. But it is the wrong time 
of the moon. 

Hillyard — What the devil has the moon got to do with it? 

Kate — The wrong end of the summer, Hillyard. Three 
months here in this dead little town with nothing to do — perhaps 
that is partly responsible. You should have told me last July. 

Hillyard — Heaven knows I tried to, hard enough; you 
wouldn't listen. You know it too. And you knew it then, and 
made me promise to keep my mouth shut like some confounded 
scare-crow. 

Kate — August, Hillyard. .. .But that's true. Perhaps I'll 
have to give you credit for that. . . .Still you don't realize what it 
is you ask. 

Hillyard — I don't, eh? 

Kate — No, Hillyard. You forget things. You forget that 
I am just a common country girl, bound out for board and keep 
and a trifle, because my father — we might as well speak plainly, 
Hillyard — because father doesn't seem to have had the stuff in 
him to support his family. 

Hillyard — No, no, that isn't fair. Your father has got 
stuff enough. It is a question of stock, not a question of stuff, 
with him. I fancy that if I had — how many of you are there? 

Kate — Twelve. 

Hillyard — Twelve. Well if I had twelve kids to feed and 
clothe and send to school and nothing but a little farm so rocky 
you have to grind the sheep's noses to help them get to the grass, 
I fancy I'd want to bind out about eleven of the little brats. 
And the one I would keep would be — can you guess? Come 
Kate dear. . . . 

Kate — No. 

Hillyard — I don't see why you have to be so offish. It's 
half your fault; you're so maddeningly unresponsive. Hang it, 



14 John Epps 

the girls down country don't stir up such a fuss about a fellow's 
making love to them a bit. 

Kate — They don't? 

HiLLYARD — Well. . . .they wouldn't. 

Kate — Hush, someone's coming. 

(Enter John bearing on his back an ancient trunk and 
followed by his mother with a candle.) 

John — Hello, who's this? How are you, Hill. 

HiLLYARD — Hello, John. Good evening. Aunt Augusta. 

Mrs. Epps — Hillyard my dear, you grow more handsome 
every day. Kate dear, some tea. You remind me so much, 
Hillyard, of your great-grandfather Epps. I remember him so 
well — a fine figure of a man. I was just a little girl, of course, 
running over from the next farm. He used to ask me to help 
him get out into his chair on the porch, on sunny days, to see the 
loads of hay go by. He suffered a great deal, poor man. . . .a 
great deal. I wonder where Joey is. 

John — Where will you have this trunk, mother? 

Mrs. Epps — Oh yes, yes. . . .Well let me see. Right here on 
these two chairs, John dear. No, no. . . .wait a second. . . .Bring 
it over here please. (He sets it down.) . . . .But I can't see to put 
things into it there. I'm afraid you will have to bring it back to 
the chairs, John. How's Uncle Henry, Hillyard? 

Hillyard — He's well enough to keep a pretty close eye on 
my expense accounts, Aunt Augusta. 

John — Come Hill, lend a hand and help me with the rest of 
this truck for a minute. 

(They carry out the other pieces of furniture as the talk 
continues.) 

Mrs. Epps — Careful, boys; always be careful. That rocker's 
a bit wobbly already. . .It was your dear father's after-supper 
chair, John; that makes it an heirloom you know. . . .1 wonder 
where Joey can be. (She calls him.) 

John — What do you want him for, mother. I'll do it in a 
minute. 

Mrs. Epps — I don't know as I want him for anything special, 



John Epps 15 

not just now; but I might; and anyway he ought to be around. 
Yes, Kate — the sponge cake; the chocolate cake was made only a 
week ago bake-day. Sponge cake, child — and cream. .. .John 
dear. 

John — Yes, mother. 

Mrs. Epps — You must go kind of careful when you wash this 
dotted shirt; it isn't very powerful I'm afraid. . . .And don't forget 
the second rinsing. I do hope you will have a good place to wash 
your clothes. Do you, Hillyard dear? 

HiLLYARD — I, Aunt Augusta .'' Why I never wash my clothes. 

Mrs. Epps — What? You never wash your clothes? Why 
Hillyard Epps! 

Hillyard — I mean that I don't wash them myself. I send 
them out. 

Mrs. Epps — Out? You send them out? Well, and do they 
all come back? I really don't think that your great-grandfather 
Epps would approve of your sending your clothes out. . . .Joey. . . . 
Oh dear, where is that boy? 

Kate — Tea, Auntie. 

Mrs. Epps— Yes, dear, but I am afraid I shall never get this 
trunk packed ready to go to-morrow. There are so many things 
to think of, Hillyard. Now do you think John ought to take his 
splasher-dashers ? 

Hillyard — His what? 

Mrs. Epps — His splasher-dashers, for milking. Why Hill- 
yard Epps, do you mean to sit there and say that you don't know 
what splasher-dashers are? I must really make you some at 
once. I can do it in ten minutes. Kate dear, an old pair of 
overalls and some shears. 

Hillyard — No, no. Aunt Augusta, please. I shall not 
milk another cow for six months. 

(Kate is meanwhile serving tea about the table.) 

Mrs. Epps — -Well, well, perhaps not. But they're handy for 
lots of other things too. I do wish Joey would come in. 

John — Cheer up, mother, the cake will fetch him. Joey can 
scent food from clean beyond the lower meadow. 



1 6 John Epps 

Mrs. Epps — Goodness gracious, John, I almost forgot the 
soap. And 1 have made up two whole pans of it a purpose. (Exit.) 

HiLLYARD — Well John, twenty-four hours and you are a 
freshman. 

John — Funny; now it's time to start, I feel just like holding 
back in the traces. 

HiLLYARD — It's like the first swim in spring. You'll like it, 
when you get in. I'm driving down with the mare to-morrow, 
John; better ride along with me. 

John — I'd like to, thanks. . . .1 wonder though if it would 
seem quite fair to the other fellows. 

HiLLYARD — You mean the Riggs boys I suppose. 

John — We are taking our stuff down together in the rack, 
you see. 

HiLLYARD — But what's their grievance, I'd like to know. 
You're furnishing transportation for both themselves and truck, 
aren't you? 

John — Yes. 

HiLLYARD — And man. For Joey's going along I presume. 

John — Yes, to drive back the team. 

HiLLYARD — There's your answer then. If I gave you a 
fatted shoat you wouldn't expect me to come and slaughter it 
for you, would you? 

John — That sounds reasonable. Somehow, Hill, you always 
seem to be right. And I always do what you want me to, in the 
end. 

HiLLYARD — The deuce you do! 

John— Well, don't I? 

HiLLYARD — You haven't yet — not in regard to this college 
business anyway. You know plaguey well how I feel about your 
going down to this new agricultural school. Great Scott, with a 
college half a century old, dignified, humanistic. . . . 

John — Hold on Hill, that water's run over the dam; there's 
no use. . . . 

HiLLYARD — I am determined on one thing anyway. You're 
going to get a glimpse of what a liberal college is like while I am 



John Epps i^j 

there in town. I'm going to have you meet some of the fellows 
too; those Aggie students look from the distance like a pretty 
serious, unsophisticated crowd. As I look at it, there's no sense 
in going to college unless you can have a bit of fun on the side. 
And whether you ever come back to the farm or not. . . . 

Mrs. Epps — (entering) — Whether he comes back to the farm 
or not; why Hillyard Epps, what do you mean? 

HiLLYARD — Of course, he probably will; all the more reason 
for a little skylarking while he has the chance. 

Mrs. Epps — Skylarking? 

Hillyard — Oh, church sociables and Sunday school picnics, 
you know. 

Mrs. Epps — Well, I think that John ought to go to the church 
sociables whenever he can do so, without interfering with his 
lessons. 

(Enter Joey, flushed.) 

Goodness gracious, here's Joey at last. 

Joey — (panting) He's coming in. 

Mrs. Epps — He's coming in! Well for the land of love! 
Who's coming in child? Kate, run to the window and see; 1 didn't 
hear any team. 

John — Who is it, Joey? 

Joey — I don't know. Looks like a minister. "My young 
man, is Mrs. Epps at home?" I don't know. Might be Daniel 
Webster. 

Mrs. Epps — Daniel Webster, child! What do you know 
about Daniel Webster? 

Joey — "Union and liberty, now and forever, one andinsep". . 

Mrs. Epps — Oh horrors, the child is reciting again. Why did 
I ever take that boy to the lyceum! 

Kate — He's here. (General confusion followed by rap 
on door.) 

Mrs. Epps — John dear, please open the door. I'm positively 
faint. 



1 8 'John Epps 

(The door is opened upon a dignified man of forty-odd, 
well-dressed, genial, energetic, commanding. He is the 
first to speak.) 

Clark — Good evening. Good evening, Mrs. Epps. I trust 
that the lateness of the hour. . . . 

Mrs. Epps — Well of all things, — if it isn't Colonel Clark! 
How do you do? Well, isn't this a surprise! Kate, some tea, 
dear. Why we didn't even know you were in town. And Kate — 
the pumpkin pie, the newest one. Why Colonel .... 

Clark — And is this the young man who is coming to our new 
college this fall? 

HiLLYARD — I am very sorry to. . . . 

Mrs. Epps — Oh no, Colonel. John, step out, dear. 

John — I am glad to meet you, sir. 

Clark — And I you, my lad. It just happened Mrs. Epps, 
that I was over in Conway this afternoon giving a lecture before 
the lyceum .... 

Kate — Oh, the lecture on salt? 

Clark — Yes, the lecture on salt. I gave it here in Ashfield 
once, didn't I ? Well as I was saying, I found myself so near that 
it occurred to me to run over for the night, to see the one or two 
families we have kept in touch with all these years and especially 
the three Ashfield boys who are bound for M. A. C. Ah, it is a 
rare privilege, Mrs. Epps, to help to found a college, (to Hillyard) 
I know you, sir; I have seen you in Amherst. 

Hillyard — I am a senior in Amherst College. 

Mrs. Epps — He is Henry Epps' son. . . . 

Clark — Oh indeed, yes, yes, of course. I knew your father 
as a boy; he was in the fifth reader when I was in the first. The 
difference seemed very great in those days. And your alma mater, 
ah how well I have known her! Yours is a sacred trust my boy — 
to bear worthily her high tradition. And this young lady, who 
is so interested in salt? 

Mrs. Epps — She is Kate Stevenson, Colonel; she lives with us. 

Clark — Stevenson, Stevenson! It seems as though there 
used to be Stevensons down on the mill road. 




President Clark 
Leavine the Botanic Museum 



John Epps 19 

Kate — Yes sir, that's where we live, sir. 

Clark — Yes of course, of course. And there was a peach 
orchard too. My mind is quite clear on the peach orchard. But 
my girl, there was no bloom there so fresh and so delicate as that 
upon this cheek. . . .And who are you? 

Joey — I'm the boy. 

Clark — So you're the boy. Blessings on thee, lucky fellow. 
We'll have you down in Amherst by and by. 

Joey — Yes sir, I'm coming sure. 

Clark — So John Epps, you are ready, are you ? Ready for 
pioneer work? 

John — All that remains, sir, is to persuade mother to close 
the trunk. We are taking our furniture from home; you may 
have seen it on the rack outside. 

Clark — Quite the proper thing to do. But tell me, sir, how 
it was that you happened to come to us instead of going with your 
cousin to the college on the hill? 

John — You, sir. 

Clark — I, my lad? 

John — Yes sir, you. I reckoned that if you were backing 
this college it was bound to make good. 

Clark — Bless you, my boy, your faith hath made me whole. 
But you do not know anything about me. 

Mrs. Epps — W^hy Colonel, everybody in Ashfield knows all 
about you. Why, you sort of belong to us. 

Clark — Then I must be pretty much of a wayward son. 
But my boy, you mustn't make choices like that. It is our mission 
that calls you, our duty to the farmers of the Commonwealth. 
Ours is the people's college, — supported by them, answerable to 
them. This is the dawn of a new era in American education. 
The possibilities of the land grant colleges are infinite. My hope 
for them is great beyond description. Ah, I cannot wait; I cannot 
wait for it to be fulfilled. 

Joey — Was it true, sir? 

Clark — Was what true, my young farmer? 

Joey — That when you came back from the war, your com- 



20 John Epps 

pany all killed, and you all alone crawling back through the rebels' 
lines after everybody thought you were dead .... 

Clark — Yes, that is true I suppose. 

Joey — Well, then? 

Clark — And what then? 

Joey — That you came back home, and knocked at your own 
door, and asked the folks that answered it. Was the widow Clark 
at home? (embarassed laughter) Well, that's what I heard. 

Clark — You will hear a great deal before you die, my boy; 
and nothing I trust more harmful than that. Well, I must jog 
along. Perhaps I will take a peep at your load. 

John — Lantern, Joey. 

Mrs. Epps — And how is Mrs. Clark, Colonel? 

Clark — Nicely, thank you, madam. 

Mrs, Epps — And there are little ones? 

Clark — Innumerable. We have to call the roll for taps. . . . 
(exit and reappearance at door.) 

By the way, young man, you may spare your horse that stove. 
The college supplies you that. 

Mrs. Epps — Heaven be praised. .. .It was the bureau I 
was thinking of. 

Clark — Rope tightly; your load will slip on the hills. Good- 
night. 

John — I will light you to the gate, sir. 

Clark — Not at all necessary. Well. Good-night every one. 
(Exit Clark and John. The others after perfunctory 
farewells linger about the door.) 

Joey — "By the way, young man, you may spare your horse 
that stove". 

Mrs. Epps — Joey! Be still child. Have you shut in the 
hens? 

Joey — No ma'am. 

Mrs. Epps — Well, go do it. And then go to bed. It's 
early to-morrow you know. 

Joey — Yes ma'am. (Exit) 



John Epps 11 

"It's early to-morrow you know". 
(John returns.) 

John — Wonderful horses! Handles them beautifully too. 

HiLLYARD — People say that when he was a baby he had a 
martingale ring to teeth on. 

Mrs. Epps — Really? 

HiLLYARD — I guess it's true that he once rode a horse up a 
flight of steps into an Easthampton store. 

Kate — Can't you just imagine him riding at the head of his 
regiment? 

John — Love at first sight, Katie? 

HiLLYARD — It was the peach bloom that did it. 

Kate — Well, he's splendid anyway. 

Mrs. Epps — Kate child. . . .just a minute, dear. That scarf 
and wristbands — do you think we can find them by lamp-light? 

Kate — Yes, Auntie. 
(Exeunt.) 

HiLLYARD — Well John, you won't cut up any capers with 
that old fellow. 

John — No, but I'd follow him. . . .to Appomatox. 

HiLLYARD — That's about what it will seem like I fancy. 

John — Isn't it lucky that everybody doesn't want to go to 
the same college? 

HiLLYARD — Yes, and that reminds me, John. 

John— Well, Hill. 

HiLLYARD — (securing the doors) — Is Kate in love with you? 

John — Is Kate in love with me? 

HiLLYARD — That's what I said. 

John — Is Kate in love with me? 

HiLLYARD — Yes. Damn it man, can't you do anything but 
stand there echoing me? I want to know whether you and Kate 
have any understanding. 

John — Is it any of your business I'd like to know. 

HiLLYARD — Come John, excuse me for speaking as I did. I 
had no right to of course. But I am good deal cut up to-night. 



22 John Epps 

It really is some of my business John, because. . . .1 have asked 
Kate to marry me. 

John — Oh I see. Well, isn't she going to? 

HiLLYARD — No, That's the merry deuce of it. 

John — What does she say? 

HiLLYARD — Says she's just a bond girl; implies she isn't fit 
to marry me. 

John — Not fit to! Kate not fit to. . . .look here Hill, if I 
heard any one else say that, I'd knock the pudding out of him. 
You'll travel a long, long ways before you'll find a better girl than 
our little Kate. 

HiLLYARD — Come, don't bristle up to me on that John. I 
agree with you perfectly. What she said was just a dodge. 

John — A dodge! 

HiLLYARD — There's somebody else she's in love with. 

John — The devil you say! Well, who is he? 

HiLLYARD — John, I think it is you. 

John — I?. .1?. .That's what you said before, wasn't it. . . . 
Why,.... I never thought of such a thing.... She wouldn't be 
likely to care for me. 

HiLLYARD — You havc never talked with her about it then? 

John — Talked with her? No.... What makes you believe 
she's thinking of me? 

HiLLYARD — Oh, nothing. .. .Probably she isn't.... It just 
occurred to me. Of course if it had been the case, you can under- 
stand that I should have wanted to know about it. 

John — Yes, of course. 

HiLLYARD — Well, let's drop it. Only just one thing more) 
John. Don't you ever let anything come up between you two 
without telling me. 

John — As far as that is concerned, Hillyard Epps, I'll tell 
you one thing right now. I reckon I've told you almost every- 
thing that ever passed through my brain. I reckon I've some- 
times told you things I was sorry for afterwards. And if I should 
find myself in love with Kate, or with any other girl, to-morrow 



John Epps 23 

morning, you needn't think I would tell you a confounded word 
about it, unless I wanted to. 

HiLLYARD — Come, come, don't get warm about it. I con- 
fided in you, and I thought you would want to do the same. But 
it doesn't make any odds to me of course. 

John — I reckon it wasn't just confiding, Hill. 

HiLLYARD — Forget it anyway, old man. To-night closes 
another chapter in our lives. The Colonel is a pretty ship-shape 
old body, isn't he? I love to hear him talk about his people's 
college. 

John — It's going to make good though — his people's college. 

HiLLYARD — Oh of course, of course. Do you know what we 
call the M. A. C. students down in Amherst? 

John — No, what? 

HiLLYARD Bucolics. 

John — Bucolics! What does that mean? 

HiLLYARD — You look it up in your Greek reader. . . .Well, 
I've got to mosey along home. . . .Say good-night for me to the 
folks. See you in the morning. 

John — Good-night, Hill. 

HiLLYARD So long. 

(Exit.) 
John — (calling from the doorway) — Oh Hill. 
HiLLYARD — Eh, John? 

John — You needn't count on me to-morrow after all. 
HiLLYARD — (reappearing in the doorway) — What's that? 
John — (impressively) — I've made up my mind to go down 
to Amherst with the Riggses to-morrow, in the rack. 



Curtain 



John Epps 25 



ACT II. 
PROLOGUE 

Who would not live momentous days? 

Who would not fain have heard 
Great Agassiz's unstinted praise 

And Wilder's stirring word? 

Then come to College Hall, and mark 
What all the people say; 

There is no man like Colonel Clark 
This first commencement day. 

But now the festive guests are gone, 
And still events unfold; 

Momentous days keep crowding on; 
As you shall see. Behold! 



John Epps 27 

The scene is laid in John Epps' room. North College. 
To the rear are two doors, the left leading into the hall 
and the right into a closet; on the left wing is a window, 
on the right wing a door leading into the bedrooms. The 
room is furnished with a stove, coal hods, a table desk, 
a living-room table of the period, chairs, lamps, pictures, 
rifles, books. The curtain rises upon Hank, Patsy and 
Dick, recumbent, dressed in military shirts and variously, 
and singing lustily. 

Rig-a-jig-jig and away we go. 
Away we go, away we go; 
Rig-a-jig-jig and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 
Dick — No more drill and away we go. 
All — Away we go, away we go; 

No more drill and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 
Patsy — No more room inspection either, boys! 
Dick — Come on, three cheers for Capt. Alvord! 
All — (three groans) 

Dick — No more chem and away we go, 
All — Away we go, away we go; 

No more chem and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 
Patsy — All right then, three cheers for Gursie! 
All — (three groans) 

Dick — No more crops and away we go, 
All — Away we go, away we go; 

No more crops and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 
Hank — Three cheers for Prof. Stock and his "cantankerous 
old hoss"! 

All — (three groans) 

Patsy — Do we want to go home, boys? 

All — No-o-0-0 ! 



28 John Epps 

Rig-a-jig-jig and away we go, 

Away we go, away we go; 
Rig-a-jig-jig and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 

Dick — I say. Patsy. 

Patsy — Yes, Dick. 

Dick — Quite a commencement, eh? 

Patsy — Oh I don't know. Wait till they get to ours. After 
three rehearsals they ought to be able to husk out something 
really nice, what do you say? 

Hank — Who in the devil was that fellow Agassiz they talked 
so much about? 

Dick — Shame on you. Hank. 

Patsy — Throw him out. 

Hank — Well, just who was he anyhow? 

Dick — Why, he was. . . .you tell him. Patsy. 

Patsy — Er. . . .1 guess I don't know exactly; but he's mighty 
important and comes from Fall River or Boston or some such 
place. 

All — Rig-a-jig-jig and away we go. . . . 

Dick — Well, there's one good thing. 

Patsy — Unload, Dick. 

Dick — Prexy didn't read that scripture passage of his about 
the three galoots in the fiery furnace. 

Hank — More's the wonder. 

Patsy — Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, 
Abednego, Abednego; 
Prexy Clark and away we go, 
Heigho, heigho, heigho! 

Dick — Oh shut up. Patsy. Who do you think you are — Dick 
Norcross ? 

Hank — Patsy's voice ought to be cultivated. 

Dick — Well, Prof Stock can tell you fifteen different ways of 
doing it, and just what kind of fertilizer to apply. 

Hank — Patsy makes you think of Prexy calling down orders 
to Andy Bassett clean from his house up on the hill. 



John Epps 29 

Patsy — Who started this singing anyway? Heaven knows 
I didn't want to. (He is smothered.) 

Dick — Boys, who said "boat race"? 

Hank — There's only just one thing I am sorry about. 

Dick — What's that? 

Hank — I'm sorry the intellectuals down the other end of 
town didn't enter a boat. 

Patsy — No danger of our coming in last if they had. 

Hank — Not after the way we beat them last year. 

Patsy — I reckon that's what they thought too. 

Dick — Well, if John Epps rows Number 5 . . . . 

Patsy — Of course he'll row Number 5; what the devil's the 
matter with you? 

Dick — They took Fred Somers down to Ingleside too. . . . 

Patsy — Substitute. 

Hank — If John shouldn't row, it would be a dirty shame. 

Dick — He's only a freshman you know. 

Hank — I don't care. He's just as good an oarsman as there 
is in the boat. 

Dick — Odd about George Leonard at that. 

Patsy — What do you mean? 

Dick — Invalid all of the two years before coming to M. A. C. 
and now captain of the crew. 

Patsy — There's nothing the matter with him now, that's a 
cinch. 

Hank — Most of those fellows are fraternity men. 

Dick — Fred Eldred isn't. 

Hank — I hear John had a chance to join D. G. K. I wish 
he had. 

Dick — John doesn't think fraternities are a good thing in a 
college. I reckon he's wrong, but you have to respect him for 
standing up for what he thinks. 

Hank — Yes, that's true. 

Patsy — I wonder why Yale didn't put in a boat. 

Dick — Yale's grouchy on the smaller colleges being in the 
association, I hear. 



30 John Epps 

Hank — She hasn't any kick. It's a snowy Fourth of July 
when she wins from Harvard. 

Dick — Do you know what they are saying down in 
Cambridge? 

Hank — No, what? 

Dick — Prof Henry was telling me. They say it's because 
they've got more culture and blue-blood down there. They're 
Brahmins, Prof Henry said. That's why they lick Yale every 
year. 

Patsy — Brahmins hell! Just wait till they get up against 
George Leonard and Gid Allen and John Epps. We'll show them 
what it means to have a little agri in your culture. 

Hank — Well, as far as I am concerned, I don't really believe 
we can beat Harvard, but I shall be one unhappy child if we don't 
come in ahead of Brown. 

(At this point the door opens and John Epps strides in.) 

Hank — Why, John! 

John — Hello, boys. 

Dick — What's the matter John? 

John — Bounced, Dick. 

Dick— No! 

John — Most unhappily yes. . . .But I'll tell you one thing, 
boys, that's going to be the most wonderful race to-morrow you'll 
ever see as long as you live. . . .I'd give ten years of my life to be 
in it. 

Dick — I'm awfully sorry, old man. 

John — Oh I may get a crack at it yet. Simp may have a 
stroke of apoplexy at breakfast you know; or George Leonard may 
fall down the hotel stairs and break his neck. But I simply 
couldn't hang around that place any longer. I just skipped out. 

Hank — Do you know what Prexy said last Wednesday? 

John — No, what did he? 

Hank — He said he had rather the boys had flunked on the 
commencement platform than lose the boat race. 

John — Good for Prexy, he's got the right kind of stuff in him. 
You knew two of the seniors were down for speeches on the com- 



John Epps 31 

mencement program? Prexy told them they'd better just stick 
to their rowing instead. They didn't even come up for the 
exercises. 

Dick — How's the coach? 

John — Josh Ward?. . . .Won't have any crew of his row with- 
out shirts. Doesn't want to offend the ladies. 

Patsy — Rot, I say. 

John — Ward's all right though. He knows boats better than 
Prof Stock knows his old bull. He's made a new seat adjustment 
in our shell so that every man gets a better pull on his oar. And 
say — those oars he had Tim Donohue make for us, they're twelve 
feet and a half long. Tim says they are the longest he ever made. 
By George, but you ought to have seen our crew on the river 
this morning. .. .But let's talk about something else. When 
are you going home Dick? 

Dick — Saturday. 

John — Succeed in borrowing any money? 

Dick — Yep. 

John — Where from? 

Dick — Prof. Stock. 

John — Umhum! Going to the regatta? 

Dick — Yep. 

John — How? 

Dick— Walk. 

John — Say Dick, I've thought of a way of getting you home 
without borrowing that money. 

Dick — Good for you, old man; tell me. 

John — By and by. 

Dick — John, you're a trump. I'll take the old fellow's 
spondulics back to-night. I have been half sick ever since I 
asked him for it. There ought to be a faculty rule against going 
to him for money any more. 

John — Still he's not the kind of man a fellow would ever 
forget to pay. . . .Hush, who's at the door? Come in. 
(Enter Hillyard.) 

Hello, Hill. 



32 John Epps 

HiLLYARD — Hello, John. 

John — Know all these fellows? 

HiLLYARD — I think so. .. .(general greetings). Well John, 
driving home with me on Saturday? 

John — Delighted, I'm sure. 

HiLLYARD — No scruples, such as you had last fall, eh? 

John — Don't you think it's about time we buried that, 
Hill? 

HiLLYARD — I suppose SO. Too good to forget though. Row- 
ing to-morrow? 

John — No. 

HiLLYARD — No ? 

John — I didn't make good. 

HiLLYARD — Tough luck, old fellow. I'm sorry. Another 
year coming though. How's the Colonel? 

John — So as to keep the black Morgans on the jump I guess. 

HiLLYARD — Hasn't found out who swiped our Prexy's port- 
folio yet, has he? 

John — What portfolio? 

HiLLYARD — Oh didn't you know? 

John — No. 

HiLLYARD — Um. . . .What are you doing to-night? 

John — I was thinking of packing a little. 

HiLLYARD — Come on out for a bit of a spin. I've got the 
roan mare outside. 

John — No, I don't believe I am in the mood. 

HiLLYARD — Confound it man, that's just the reason I'm 
asking you. We'll just drive down around the tavern and back. 
Have you here before you know it. Hal Spaulding is out in the 
buggy. He's hilarious to-night. He can crack your gloomy 
old mask if any one can. Come on John; show some spunk. 

John — All right. Wait until I wash up a bit. (Exit.) 

HiLLYARD — Well, how's the race coming out? 

Patsy — Nothing to it; we shall win easily. 

HiLLYARD — Amherst men are betting on Harvard. 

Patsy — After the licking we gave you last spring? 



John Epps ;;^2 

HiLLYARD — Yes, but what did we do to you in baseball? 
Remember? See here, you don't want to put up something on 
this race, do you? 

Patsy — Well, I might lay a V on it. 

HiLLYARD — Even money? 

Patsy — Even money. 

John — (from bedroom door) — You're a fool. Patsy. Down 
at the Boat Club they are backing Harvard five to four against 
Brown and fifteen to one against us. 

HiLLYARD — Are they really? 

John — And there are two or three men right here in this town 
who stand a good chance of making a pile of money off that race. 
Guess I'm ready, Hill. 

Patsy — And I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Epps. 

HiLLYARD — All right. 

Patsy — If instead of being so stylish and riding over to Hat- 
field for practice, your men had tramped both ways afoot the way 
ours had to, you might not have been beaten so badly. 

HiLLYARD — Ha, ha. My friend, you are probably right. 

Patsy — That Brahmin stuff doesn't always work you know. 

John — All right Patsy; tell us when we get back. (Exeunt.) 

Dick — By Jove, it's a shame. 

Hank — What? 

Dick — John's being dropped. He's hard hit too. 

Patsy — I'm damned if I like that cousin of his. 

Dick — What's the matter with him? 

Patsy — I don't know exactly. Maybe it's just because he 
comes from the other end of town. 

Hank — What was that about the portfolio? 

Patsy — Hanged if I know. 

Dick — Oh that? Nothing much. I heard something about 
it a while back. Somebody got away with Stearns' handbag or 
some such thing. He had a crazy idea that it was one of our 
crowd down here. Prexy made a few inquiries I believe. 

Patsy — Anything in it? 



34 John Epps 

Dick — Not much I guess. He got it back anyway, somehow 
or other. 

Patsy — I'm sorry for that. 

Dick — Patsy, you're carrying too much of a chip on your 
shoulder. It's silly. Prexy's an Amherst graduate you know. 
So is Prof Henry. We haven't got a monopoly on all the brains 
in town. 

Patsy — No, and they haven't either, by jingo. 
(Knock.) 

Dick — Hush. (Sound of voices without.) 

Patsy — By the great horned spoon! It's Prexy. 

(In the midst of general confusion Dick opens the door 
upon President Clark, Mrs. Epps, Kate and Joey.) 

Clark — Good evening, gentlemen. This is Mr. Epps' 
room I believe. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh yes, Colonel. There's his dear father's after- 
supper chair. And this is Dick I suppose. . . .Mr. Dick? 

Dick — Yes ma'am. How do you do, Mrs. Epps. . . .And these 
others are Hank, and — here, come out of that clothes-press you 
rogue — and Patsy, ma'am. 

Clark — Umhum!. .. .Patsy, eh? 

Patsy — Yes, sir. 

Clark — Not Patrick though. James, if I remember rightly. 

Patsy — Yes sir, really James, sir. 

Clark — Yes, indeed, indeed, (to Dick) You haven't 
Mr. Epps hidden away somewhere too, have you ? 

Dick — No sir, he stepped out for a little; but he will be 
back presently. Won't you all sit down? 

Clark — Well, I don't know. Mrs. Epps, an old friend of my 
family, gentlemen, came into town unexpectedly, and I am acting 
simply as campus guide. Perhaps under the circumstances I had 
better wait just for a moment or so. 

(After much difficulty the guests are seated, Joey on the 
coal hod.) 

Dick — More light. Hank. 



John Epps 35 

(Hank and Patsy proceed to light the desk lamp, fail, 
and finally resort to the kerosene can. Meanwhile — ) 

Mrs. Epps — Where's that boy? 

Joey — Here, ma'am. 

Mrs. Epps — Joey, get out of that coal hod at once. Oh dear, 
that boy would find dirt in the New Jerusalem. 

Joey — Yes ma'am. 

Clark — This has been a very significant week, Mrs. Epps. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh yes, of course, of course Colonel. . . .Mr. . . . 
Mr. Dick, I am so anxious. Does John sleep with his head to 
the north? 

Dick — To the north?. . . .Oh yes, ma'am. He does. 

Clark — Why to the north, madam? 

Mrs. Epps — Oh, it's very much healthier, so I've read. 
Something about the magnetic pole, you know. I always sleep 
with my head to the north. I have written to John about it 
several times, but do you know, he never has said anything about 
it. 

Clark — Yes, — well it certainly wouldn't do any harm. I 
am very sorry, madam, you couldn't have been here for our com- 
mencement exercises. Twenty-seven graduates — isn't that fine 
for a first class? And among the honored guests: the Governor 
of the Commonwealth, the honorable Justin S. Morrill, our own 
Marshall P. Wilder, and Professor Louis Agassiz, possibly the 
foremost zoologist in the world. It was indeed a notable occasion. 

Mrs, Epps — Yes indeed, I am sure it must have been, Colonel. 
We came down, did I tell you? — to take John home with us for 
the summer. 

Kate — And to see the regatta. Auntie. John is to be one 
of the rowers, isn't he Colonel Clark? 

Clark — Well. . . .no. I think not this time, young lady. 

Dick — You knew that John has been dropped, sir? 

Clark — I drove down to Ingleside this morning. The men 
are in excellent shape. If we should win that race, gentlemen, 
what a thing it would be for M. A. C! Mr. Ward is pleased with 
the crew. We are hoping for the best. 



^6 John Epps 

Joey — And our John isn't going to be in it? 

Clark — Your John is only a freshman; his time will come 
later. 

Joey — Huh. . . .1 reckon I made a mistake this trip. 

Clark — My boy, the man who never makes a mistake will 
never make anything else in this world. 

Mrs. Epps — Colonel Clark. 

Clark — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Epps — Those shirts. . . .Mr. Dick's and Mr.. . .Hank's 
. . .what do they mean? 

Clark — Military, madam; they are part of the uniforms. 

Mrs. Epps — And the letters? 

Clark — M. A. C. Massachusetts Agri.... 

Mrs. Epps — Oh of course. Massachusetts Agricultural 
College. Yes, of course. Kate, how very stupid of me. 

Dick — There's another interpretation now, sir. 

Clark — Indeed ? 

Dick — The Mount Holyoke girls say the letters stand for 
Men Attending Cattle. 

Joey — Haw, haw! 

Mrs. Epps — Joey, Joey. Be respectful, Joey. 

Clark — Not at all bad though. 

Patsy — It pleased Professor Stockbridge, sir. He's always 
saying, we don't want to teach anything that they teach at the 
other college; he says that we want to teach something new. 

Clark — Ah, that's it, young men. Something new. It is a 
glorious experiment we have here, and we are all working it out 
together. The eyes of the whole nation are upon us. We have 
got to make good. And we shall. One class already graduated; 
the others well filled; a superb location; the farm well under way; 
half a dozen good buildings; and some of the best teachers you may 
ever hope to see. We have received some very fine compliments 
from prominent men this week. And do you remember what 
Mr. Wilder said? It was from the Bible — old Simeon's prayer 
of praise when he was permitted to behold the Christ child: 



John Epps 37 

"Now lettest thou thy servant depart, Oh Lord, in peace." Oh 
I am proud of our college, gentlemen; and I am proud of every one 
of you connected with it. 

(Sound of footsteps without, followed by an ominous 
hush; then the door is thrown open, and John Epps, 
with Hillyard in the doorway, staggers into the room.) 
John — Hello. Hello. .. .everybody. How do you.... do. 
Glad to see. . . .you. . . . 
Kate — . . . .John! 
Clark — What does this mean? 
John — . . . .Kate! 

Curtain 



John Epps 39 



ACT III. 
PROLOGUE 

The mother-heart is broken 

When manhood stoops, 
And words remain unspoken 

In friendship groups; 
It is the bitter token 

That honor droops, 
For more than hearts are broken 

When manhood stoops. 



John Epps 41 

Scene: President Clark's office in the Botanic Museum; 
one window left, and two, the right-hand one being a 
triple one, in the rear; to the right a door; on the wall a 
picture of Wohler; in right-hand corner a bookcase; to 
the left and facing the door the president's flat-top 
desk littered with papers; wooden arm chairs, et cetera. 
President Clark is discovered sitting at his desk. 

(A knock.) 

Clark — Come in. 

(Enter Hillyard.) 

HiLLYARD — Good moming, sir. 

Clark — Good morning, Mr. Epps. Pray be seated. 
(Continues writing, uses sand, and then — ) 

I was very deeply pained by last night's episode, as you may 
imagine. Not only am I mortified in a personal way, being as it 
happens an old friend of your family, but I am also distressed for 
the good name of our new college. It was a very serious offense, 
and, staged as it was before the young man's own mother, a 
brutally horrible one. 

Hillyard — Of course John had no inkling that there would 
be guests in his room, sir. 

Clark — I should have hoped not, indeed. 

Hillyard — . . . .But why have you sent for me, sir? 

Clark — A rather irregular action I must admit. The fact 
of your kinship is largely the explanation. Your cousin will be 
in to see me soon, but, coming as this does just at the break-up 
of the term, prompt action is imperative, and I desired to advise 
with you as to your cousin's conduct, both last evening and 
formerly. 

Hillyard — Well, sir? 

Clark — He came back to his room in your company. May I 
assume that he did his drinking in your company as well? 

Hillyard — You may, sir. 

Clark — You yourself were not intoxicated however. 

Hillyard — Oh no, of course not, sir. 



42 John Epps 

Clark. — Indeed, indeed .... Well is there any reason, beknown 
or unbeknown to your cousin, why he should have been in so much 
worse a condition than you? 

HiLLYARD — No, sir. 

Clark — What's that? 

HiLLYARD — Well sir, now that you speak of it, I am inclined 
to think that the cause may have been his depression. 

Clark — You mean in regard to the regatta? 

HiLLYARD — I do? 

Clark — Very likely. .. .very likely. Now Mr. Epps, have 
you ever seen your cousin in this condition before? 

HiLLYARD — That, sir, is an unfair question. I decline to 
answer it. 

Clark — Yes. . . .Well, you have answered it. 

HiLLYARD — I have answered it? How? 

Clark — By your declination. 

HiLLYARD — Colonel Clark, I will say this. John Epps is not 
a drunkard, nor an habitual drinker, any more than I am, or, in 
view of your smiling, yourself. If he has taken two or three 
drinks, or two or three too many, on occasion — strictly on 
occasion understand — it is only what most other young men do. 
It is nothing to be unduly excited over. 

Clark — Young man, one drink is something to be unduly 
excited over when it involves the happiness and good name of 
others. 

HiLLYARD — I beg your pardon, sir. No doubt you are right. 

Clark — Yes. Well I am. Now Mr. Epps, there is some- 
thing else. 

HiLLYARD — Yes, sir? 

Clark — Some weeks ago there occurred a rather mysterious 
and an altogether unfortunate incident, of which you may or may 
not be aware. It was late in the evening. President Stearns of 
your college was returning from some gathering with Professor 
Tyler, and as they were about to part by the common, they paused 
to talk for a little, with their backs to the street. It seems that 
Dr. Stearns had with him a portfolio containing both important 



'John Epps 43 

documents and money, and he laid this down beside him, on the 
common fence, as he talked. When he finally turned to go home, 
the portfolio was missing. It was found, however, not far this 
side of the square the following morning. In reviewing the whole 
matter. Dr. Stearns recalled being brushed by a young man who 
hurried by during the interview. He had given him a passing 
glance, enough merely to ascertain that he was not an acquaintance, 
not sufficient to identify him at a later date. The general appear- 
ance of this individual, who apparently was the one to appropriate 
the portfolio, and the location where the article was eventually 
found, led him to assume that the thief was a student at M. A. C. 
In one sense, the whole matter is not serious in the least; in another, 
it is considerably so. I have canvassed in my mind our whole 
student body, and investigated quietly a few suspicious individ- 
uals, but have found no evidence. Now I want to ask you, Mr, 
Epps, what you know of this matter. 

HiLLYARD — Just what you have stated, sir. 

Clark — I have stated the case correctly then? 

HiLLYARD — Why yes, as far as I know, you have. 

Clark — Um. . . .Could it be possible, do you think, that your 
cousin, John Epps, might have been the culprit? 

HiLLYARD — Why, really sir. . . .why I suppose it might have 
been possible. 

Clark — You don't think it at all probable, however? 

HiLLYARD — Why sir, it isn't the least like John. No, I 
shouldn't say that it were probable. 

Clark — Your cousin has been down on your campus some- 
times? 

HiLLYARD — Yes sir, a little — not a great deal. 

Clark — More, probably, than any other M. A. C. student, 
however? 

HiLLYARD — Well, as to that I couldn't accurately say. 

Clark — He has usually been there as your guest? 

HiLLYARD — Why yes, I presume that he has, usually. 

Clark — As far as you know, always? 

HiLLYARD — As far as I know, always; yes sir, certainly. 



44 John Epps 

Clark — You are then presumably informed as to his conduct 
on those occasions? 

HiLLYARD — I suppose that I am. Of course I could hardly 
be expected to know what might have happened after he had 
started for home. 

Clark — Ah! 

HiLLYARD — What sir? 

Clark — Mr. Epps, you have given me two very important 
pieces of evidence. 

Hillayrd — Concerning this case? Hardly sir. 

Clark — Yes, but you have. 

HiLLYARD — May I inqure what they were? 

Clark — Certainly. You have indicated beyond any possibil- 
ity of doubt, first, that you know more about this matter than you 
desire to reveal, and second, that you are exceedingly scrupulous 
about telling a categorical lie. 

HiLLYARD — I am sure that I have said nothing. . . . 

Clark — It isn't what you have said, my young man, but 
rather what you have adroitly avoided saying. 

HiLLYARD — Well sir, those are very ingenious inferences, 
but I don't see how they can help you very much. 

Clark — They can clear the whole mystery in about three 
minutes. I did not intend that this interview should develop 
just as it has done, and as matters stand now, it is obvious that 
there was no need of its doing so. I might have known, for that 
matter, that no Ashfield Epps would lie. It is to your credit, 
perhaps, that you so dexterously evaded my more or less leading 
questions. It is apparent, however, that if I should press the 
matter with direct interrogations, you would be bound to tell 
me truthfully the facts of this incident. 

HiLLYARD — Well, naturally sir, I am no liar. 

Clark — Naturally sir, you are not. And just as naturally, 
neither is your cousin. I prefer not to hear any more about this 
from you. W^hen your cousin comes in, I shall ask him explicitly 
whether he is or not the guilty person, and he will tell me. 

HiLLYARD — But Colonel. . . . 



John Epps 45 

Clark — No more now, if you please. Believe me sir, I am 
getting no happiness out of this development. Your aunt is 
coming up the path; will you kindly stay her interview, and then 
continue within call until this matter is cleared up. There was 
nothing at Antietam as formidable as a woman's tears. 
(Knock.) 

Come in. (Enter Mrs. Epps and Kate.) 

Mrs. Epps — Oh Colonel Clark. . . . 

Clark — Yes, my dear Mrs. Epps. Your nephew, Mrs. 
Epps. 

Mrs. Epps — Good morning, Hillyard. 

HiLLYARD — Good moming. Aunt Augusta. 

Mrs. Epps — Colonel Clark, what does it all mean? 

Clark — It means, pardon my frank speech, that your son 
has been drinking. 

Mrs. Epps — Yes, yes, I know. But what will happen to 
him? 

Clark — As far as his drinking goes, probably nothing more 
than a disagreeable headache this morning, supplemented by about 
ten minutes of very red hot shot from his superior officer. 

Mrs. Epps — Red hot shot? 

Clark — Words, madam, charged with the powder of moral 
indignation. 

Mrs. Epps — Then he won't be expelled from college? His 
life won't be blasted? 

Clark — The two are not synonymous, madam. However, 
as I implied before, as far as this episode is concerned, he probably 
will not be expelled from college. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh Colonel, you don't know. . . . 

Clark — Wait, madam. 

Mrs. Epps — Yes, sir? 

Clark — We might as well face the facts early as late. 

Mrs. Epps — Yes. . . .yes, sir. 

Clark — There is another charge against your son. 

Hillyard — Colonel Clark, you have no proof of that. 



46 John Epps 

Clark — I shall have the boy's admission within a very few 
minutes, sir. 

Mrs. Epps — What Is the charge, sir? 

Clark — The charge is petty larceny. 

Mrs. Epps — Larceny, sir? 

Clark — Theft. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh. . . .oh Kate. 

Clark — And what action the faculty will take in this instance 
I do not know. 

Kate — Colonel Clark, John Epps is no thief. I don't believe 
a word you say. I tell you, sir, there is some horrible mistake. 

Clark — My dear young lady, I hope that there is. 

Kate — I know that there is. 

Clark — Yes, of course, of course. And now Mrs. Epps, as 
your nephew remarked a little while back, nothing is yet proved 
orj^admitted. I have been simply, rather heartlessly perhaps, 
preparing you for what I foresee ahead. There may be exten- 
uating circumstances; of course we all pray that there are. Be- 
sides, your son is an Epps. He will give a frank account of the 
whole thing. If it proves to merely a boyish prank, or a speedily 
repented impulse, I shall be inclined to recommend clemency. 
Meanwhile allow me to take you up to my house; and we will 
let you know immediately when anything develops. 

Mrs. Epps — Oh Colonel Clark, a mother's prayers. . . . 

Clark — Yes, Mrs. Epps, I know all about them. Come, let 
us go. 

(Exeunt; the young people remain behind.) 

Kate — Hillyard, what are you doing here? 

HiLLYARD — I came at Colonel Clark's request. 

Kate — You have done something underhandedly. 

Hillyard — My dear Kate, I give you my word of honor 
that I have done nothing underhandedly. 

Kate — What have you been telling the Colonel in this room? 

Hillyard — To the best of my knowledge, I have told him 
absolutely nothing. 

Kate — Then what does it all mean? 



John Epps 47 

HiLLYARD — It means that last night's episode. . . . 

Kate — Oh Hillyard, don't! 

HiLLYARD — ....has suggested something to the Colonel as 
to the authorship of a rather inconsequential stealing some time 
ago. As I said while he was here, he has no proof. 

Kate — But can he get any proof? 

Hillyard — I think that John's statement will close the case. 

Kate — Oh, thank heaven for that. 

Hillyard — . . . .Kate. 

Kate — Yes, Hillyard. 

Hillyard — I don't suppose you would like to drive down to 
the regatta with me this afternoon? 

Kate — I don't think so, Hillyard. 

Hillyard — It would make me very happy, Kate. 

Kate — We will wait and see how this. . . .this mess comes out. 

Hillyard — You will tell me then? 

Kate — Ye. .es, I will tell you then. Come we must not 
stay here. There is the Colonel coming back already. 

Hillyard — He drives like the very devil. 

(They are accosted by Clark in the doorway.) 

Clark — Take the rig if you care to, Mr. Epps. You know 
where I live? 

Hillyard — Yes sir, but I think we prefer to walk. 

Clark — Very well. But come back to the office presently. 

Hillyard — Yes sir. (Exeunt.) 

(Clark has finally seated himself at his desk when Goodell 
enters.) 

Goodell — Good morning, Mr. President. 

Clark — Good morning, Goodell. (He pronounces it Giidel.) 
Have a chair. 

Goodell — Well this is a richly glorious day for M. A. C. 

Clark — It isn't over yet. 

Goodell — Oh, the boat race! 

Clark — I had forgotten all about the boat race. 

Goodell — What's that? 

Clark — Nothing. Go ahead. 



48 John Epps 

GooDELL — My thought, Mr. President, was of the second of 
October, 1867, the day this college first opened. As you may 
recall, we drove over to this very building to set the entrance 
examinations, together. I shall never forget a remark which you 
made to me that morning. It was this: "I do not know", you 
said, "of a single man who is coming to-day, but I believe the 
heart of the old Bay State will beat true to the opportunity pre- 
sented to it." Mr. President, I wish to congratulate you upon 
this, your first commencement. Your faith has been most abun- 
dantly justified. 

Clark — Thank you Goodell, thank you. Yes what you say 
is true. We have been having some rough sledding, you and I 
and the others. But our college has come, and you and I know 
that it has come to stay. Ah, here are Goessmann and Stock- 
bridge. Come in, come in gentlemen. 

(They enter; greetings all around.) 
Well Goessmann, how are your sugar beets progressing? Are we 
going to have something to send over to those fellows at Gottingen 
in a year or so? 

Goessmann — Na yes, Mr. President, I tink so. 

Clark — Good enough. Nice day for your business, Stock- 
bridge. 

Stockbridge — Well sir, it will cure hay. 

Clark — How are you going to run your farm now that the 
boys are leaving? 

Stockbridge — I was thinking of putting Goodell here into 
the cow barns. And maybe big Goessmann could pull turnips in 
the corn. 

Clark — Ha! Did you ever eat any Indian turnip root, 
Goessmann? 

Goessmann — No, not to my recollection. 

Clark — You wouldn't eat it any other way. Now it would 
be just like this fellow Stockbridge to bring you in a nicely peeled 
little bulb to sample. I'd do it myself, if you weren't such an 
irascible and indispensable old scientist. Yes Stockbridge, I 



John Epps 49 

have been just mean enough to play that despicable trick two or 
three times in my career. 

GoESSMANN — Mr. President, do you remember once about 
the skunk? 

Clark — Ha, ha, ha! Did I ever tell you about that,Goodell? 
Didn't I? You either Stockbridge? Really? Well what do 
you know about that? Let's see, it's vacation, isn't it? 

GooDELL — Pray tell it, sir. 

Clark — Well, just briefly. It was when I was over in Ger- 
many. There was, as it happened, a very stolid and scholarly young 
instructor who was always poking his investigatorial nose into 
out-of-the-way corners, so to speak. So I asked him one day if he 
had ever analyzed the protective fluid of the skunk. He said that 
he never had; in fact that he knew nothing at all about it. Was 
inclined to be incredulous as to the little animal's security as 
explained. He was very eager to examine some of it. So I sent 
over to this country, and some friends emptied the perineal glands 
of a defunct mephitis and sent the secretion over to me. I gave 
it to the young doctor at the beginning of a lecture period. He 
was instantly and scientifically alert. He exhibited the vial to 
the class and discussed at length the properties of its contents. 
At last he announced that he was ready to open the vial and pre- 
pare for the analysis. 

GooDELL — Well, what then? 

Clark — After he had got that seal off, it wasn't thirty seconds 
before the laboratory was absolutely empty. And let me add 
that the young doctor had a head-start and made the most of it. 

Goessmann — That was one very fine story. 

Clark — Well, gentlemen, I am sorry to trouble you this fine 
morning. By the way, Goodell, I am driving down to Ingleside 
with my boy after dinner; won't you come along with us? 

Goodell — Very gladly, sir. 

Clark — I'll call for you at South College. . . .And now gentle- 
men, the point is this. I have run into a rather dirty matter 
involving one of the freshmen, and I want your advice. 

Goessmann — Who is the young man? 



50 "John Epps 

Clark — Young Epps. I'm all cut up about it. I knew his 
mother as a girl; went to school with her. Fine family! Well, 
the situation is this. Last evening I ran across Mrs. Epps by the 
Botanic Walk, looking for her son's room. I took her over to it, 
and while I was still there, the boy appears on the scene — drunk. 

GooDELL — Mr. President, you amaze me. 

GoESSMANN — He was one fine boy; I should not have 
thought that he would have drunk too much. 

Stockbridge— After all, Mr. President, this isn't wholly 
without precedent. The boy ought to be made to realize that 
there is a whip in the buggy, against another such caper you 
understand. 

Clark — Ah, gentlemen, but that isn't the whole of it. You 
all recall the incident of President Stearns' losing his portfolio. 

Goessmann — Na yes, that was once a very strange affair, 
ish not. 

Clark — Last evening's episode caused me to suspect young 
Epps of that mischief, too. I have talked this morning with his 
cousin, a senior at the other college with whom John Epps has 
associated more or less. The cousin clearly knew a good deal 
about that affair, and as clearly was anxious to shield the culprit. 
The known facts of the case and the whole manner of this cousin 
point to only one conclusion. 

GooDELL — That John Epps took the portfolio? 

Clark — Precisely. 

Stockbridge — But did the cousin tell you anything to that 
effect? 

Clark — Not in so many words. I preferred to have it from 
the boy himself. But there is no shadow of doubt in my mind. 
My whole concern now is how the boy will conduct himself when 
confronted with the accusation. 

GooDELL — Well, what can we do about it? Do you want us 
to sit in on the interview? 

Clark — No, not that. I should, however, like to know what 
you would recommend in case the boy admits that he took the 




Professors Goodell, Stockbridge and Goessmann 
At the Stockbridge House 



John Epps 51 

portfolio. Consider tlie penalty in the light of that offense plus 
his misconduct last night. 

Stockbridge — Mr. President, wouldn't it make some differ- 
ence what he did with the portfolio afterwards? It was found 
the next morning I believe. 

Clark — I cannot believe that the boy was downright vicious 
in the matter. He may have become frightened or remorseful 
you know. It is inconceivable that he simply lost it. Assume for 
the time being some such extenuating circumstance. 

GooDELL — Expulsion ? 

GoESSMANN — No, no ! Dat was once a boyish trick, ish no? 

GooDELL — Thank you, Goessmann, I was counting on you 
for that. 

Stockbridge — Mr, President, — restrictive probation running 
through next year. Shorten his tether a bit, and watch him. 

Clark — Is that the judgment of all of you? 
(All indicate approval.) 

Stockbridge — Now suppose that the boy denies everything. 

Clark — He won't, Stockbridge. 

Stockbridge — He might. 

Clark — No sir. I know him too well for that. He won't 
deny it. 

GooDELL — But Mr. President, if he should, could the guilt 
be proved against him? 

Clark — Undoubtedly. 

GooDELL — Then what should be the penalty? 

Clark — What? Drunkenness, theft, falsehood? Immediate 
expulsion of course. 

Stockbridge — Agreed. 

Clark — Ah, but it isn't as bad as that, not as bad as that. 
Though, my friends, you have no idea how this troubles me. 
Come let's adjourn. 

GooDELL — Here's your boy right now. 

Clark — Yes, I expected him. The interview will be brief. 
If you care to take a look at my squashes, I can let you know about 
it before you leave. 



52 John Epps 

GooDELL — We will be about the greenhouse for a few minutes, 
sir. 

(Exeunt; and enter John Epps.) 

Clark — Good morning, sir. 

John — Good morning, President Clark. 

Clark — Be seated, pray. 

John — President Clark, you cannot add to my shame. I 
am heart-broken over what happened last night. 

Clark — I am glad to hear it. . . .Have you any explanations 
to make? 

John — None, sir. I am wholly to blame. 

Clark — You understand, of course, that it is not merely a 
personal or a family affair. The honor of our college was also 
at stake. It has been my proud and frequent boast that our men 
are not of the type that tear around nights, guzzling over a bar. 

John — I understand, sir. . . .As far as I am concerned, it 
shall never happen again. . . .Is that all, sir? 

Clark — Not quite. John Epps, you come of a family of 
honest men and women. Your word, too, I suppose, is absolutely 
dependable? 

John — Of course it is, sir. 

Clark — Yes. Now I want you to tell me what you know 
about the disappearance of President Stearns' portfolio. 

John — I know nothing about it. 

Clark — Nothing? 

John — Nothing, sir — absolutely nothing. 

Clark — What? Then I am to understand, of course, that 
you yourself had nothing whatsoever to do with it? 

John — No sir, I did not. 

Clark — There is something strange about this. Wait a 
moment. 

(Exit.) 
Oh, Stockbridge, Goodell — will you three step into the office. 
(They soon appear.) 

(A little later Clark re-enters with Hillyard; general 
confusion incident to sitting.) 



John Epps S3 

Be seated, gentlemen. There seem to be some unforeseen diffi- 
culties in connection with what we were speaking of a little while 
ago. This is Mr. Hillyard Epps, Amherst College, '71. These 
young men are cousins and both from Ashfield. Now Mr. Epps, 
it seems to be necessary after all for you to tell us what you know 
about the disappearance of President Stearns' portfolio. I 
might say, gentlemen, that I do not know what Mr. Epps may be 
able to reveal, but that he has given me perfect assurance that he 
is a man of his word. Whatever he says we may depend upon. 

Hillyard — Colonel Clark, may I inquire.... 

Clark — No. I think the less preliminaries there are to this 
statement, the better it will be for all concerned. 

Hillyard — Would it be permissible for me to talk with you 
alone ? 

Clark — The time for that, too, has passed. Proceed. 

Hillyard — This is a very unpleasant piece of business, sir. 

Clark — Naturally, — and equally so for all of us. Proceed. 

Hillyard — Well sir. My knowledge of the matter is this. 
Upon the evening in question my cousin had been my guest at 
the other campus. We had spent a rather gay evening, my room- 
mate, he and I. In fact I must confess, I fear, that we had been 
drinking a bit, and we were a trifle boisterous when we broke 
up the party. My roommate and I accompanied my cousin as 
far as the crest of the campus hill. 

GooDELL — Was it necessary, sir? 

Hillyard — Not at all. He could travel all right. However 
we paused a bit and watched him out of sight. There was a bright 
moon, you see. We saw President Stearns and Professor Tyler 
standing by the common fence. As he approached them, John 
paused. Then as he drew nearer we thought we saw him pick 
something from the fence. He hurried along, and we watched 
him until he had disappeared. Thereupon we returned to our 
room. That, sir, is ail that I know of the affair. 

Goodell — You are sure you were in a condition to see 
straight at that time? 



54 John Epps 

HiLLYARD — Well sir, my roomate and I would not be likely 
to experience the identical illusion I should say. 

Clark — Are there any other questions? None? Well, John 
Epps, what have you to say? 

John — Why it's a. . . . President Clark, the story that you 
have just heard is made up, all of it, out of whole cloth. It is a 
malicious and an unvarnished lie. 

HiLLYARD — See here, John. 

John — By thunder Hill. . . . 

Clark — Wait young men. Keep your hands down I say. 

John — This is no time for courtesies, sir. 

Clark — Goodell — Stockbridge — if you please. . . . 

John — Well .... President Clark, do you mean to say that 
you would throw out the sworn statement of one of your own men 
and take the word instead of a damned intriguer from that other 
college? 

HiLLYARD — Take that back, John. 

John — Never! I will never take it back. And by heaven, 
I see through it now. I understand at last. 

HiLLYARD — W'hat do you understand? 

John — It's all your damned jealousy, that's what it is. You 
knew that Kate was coming down here last night. You took me 
out and got me drunk in order to bring me back to make a rotten 
spectacle of myself before her. 

HiLLYARD — John 1 

John — Yes, and then you trumped up this miserable lie about 
that portfolio to complete the whole dirty business. You knew 
blamed well that she would never marry you unless. . . .By heaven, 
I'd like to kill you. 

HiLLYARD — John! Listen to me. 

John— Well? 

HiLLYARD — There isn't a syllable of truth in what you say. 
I can prove it. 

John — You'll have to. I may be down and out right now, 
but I'll tell you one thing, Hillyard Epps. It's up to you, by 
God. . . .It's up to you. 

Cwtain 



John Epps 55 



ACT IV. 
PROLOGUE 

Meanwhile at sunny Ingleside, 
With oars that dip and strain, 

The boats, like water insects, glide 
Along the river main; 

And watchers, tense and eager-eyed. 
Guess which is which — in vain. 

But on they come in close array, 
And loud becomes the din; 

With even stroke and flecks of spray 
The shells come sweeping in. 

Good Fortune, row with us to-day, 
And grant our boys may win! 



John Epps 57 

Scene: same as for Act 2. Evening again. John is 
sitting at his desk in his shirt-sleeves, trying to write. 
Three times he crumples the sheet, the last time with 
the expletive "Damn". A considerable pause before 
he speaks. 

John — "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow" 

"Oh I am fortune's fool!" 

(Knock.) 
Come in. 

(Enter Joey.) 
Hello, Joey. 

Joey — Hello, John. 

John — Have a chair, old fellow. 

Joey — You don't act very chipper, it seems to me. 

John — I'm afraid I don't Joey. . . .It looks like a hard winter 
ahead for me. 

Joey — Huh. . . .You mean last night? 

John — Mostly. 

Joey — Shucks, my dad never made no bones about getting 
drunk. That ain't nothing much. 

John — It depends on what's expected of you, old fellow. 

Joey — Well, maybe that's so. Guess nobody ever expected 
much from dad. . . .1 don't reckon I'd let it knock me out though. 

John — Joey, come over here. 

Joey — Yep, John. 

John — Joey, did you ever drink any liquor? 

Joey — Nope, not yet. 

John — Then don't you ever do it. I want you to promise 
me that you never will. And I will promise you, in exchange, 
that I will never touch the cursed stuff again — as long as I live. 
It will be just a little bargain between us. . . .It's raised one merry 
havoc with my life, and it knocked out your father too, and Joey, 
if you and I are ever to amount to a hill of beans in this world, 
we've got to keep ourselves clean of it, understand? 

Joey — I reckon I do. 



58 John Epps 

John — Then shake with me on it. It's a secret too; we'll 
just keep this between us, a kind of trust, so that we shall go 
straight, always. You understand what I mean? Not one drop. 
Not one drop, ever. 

Joey — Not one drop, John. 

John — All right, Joey. 

Joey — All right, John. 

(Then striking an attitude and exuberantly — ) 
"Union and liberty, now and forever, one and inseparable!" 

John — By George, Joey, that's just what it means, too. 
Union and liberty for both of us. . . .Well, I feel a little better. 

Joey — (after a long pause) — Wonder how the race came out. 

John — I wonder too. 

Joey — Must be all over now? 

John — Oh yes, long ago. It was to start at seven o'clock. 

Joey — How far did they race? 

John — Three miles. 

Joey — How long would it take them, do you think? 

John — Not over eighteen minutes. 

Joey — Whew! Six men? 

John — Six men .... Do you know, Joey, when Josh Ward 
told me that I couldn't row in that race, I actually thought that 
nothing worse could ever happen to me in this life. 

Joey — Well, there couldn't much^ could there? 

John — Joey, they've proved me a drunkard, and a thief, and 
a liar. They have expelled me from M. A. C. Colonel Clark 
despises me; my mother is heart-broken;. . . .and what do you 
imagine Kate thinks of me now? 

Joey — Oh yes, that's what I came for. 

John — What do you mean? 

Joey — Kate, she sent me. She wanted to come over to see 
you for a minute maybe. 

John — Kate? Isn't Kate down at the regatta? 

Joey — Nope; she didn't go to the regatta. 

John — I thought she was going down with Hillyard. 



John Epps 59 

Joey — Nope; didn't neither one of them go. I don't believe 
that either of them wanted to, much. 

John — Joey, I can't see Kate. 

Joey — I don't see why you should mind, if she doesn't. 

John — That's true. I'll go to her; where is she? 

Joey — She doesn't want you over there, with all those folks 
around. She wants to see you private, I reckon. I'll go get her. 

John — All right, Joey. I'm here. 
(Exit Joey.) 
(John is putting on his coat when Dick enters.) 

Dick — Heard anything about the race? 

John — Not a peep. You? 

Dick — No. Quite a crowd collecting outside. Even Gursie 
and Prof Stock are hanging around waiting for news. 

John — Confound it Dick, there wasn't any sense in you 
fellows staying away from that race to-day. 

Dick — We hadn't any business going, anyway, roughing it 
the way we should have had to. But old man, if you had been 
rowing, we should have been there just the same. 

John — Oh Dick, I have certainly made a mess of everything, 
haven't I? 

Dick — Well, I don't know all the facts of the case, but I 
don't believe things are as bad as you think they are. 

John — They are, though. And a great deal worse. 

Dick — It looks to me as though that cousin of yours played 
you dirty. 

John — That's what I thought too. .. .But I can't seem to 
think quite straight on the whole business. I've tramped all 
over Shutesbury Hill this afternoon trying to see the thing as it 
is, and trying to make up my mind what to do. It's just possible, 
you know Dick, it's just possible Hill's statement may have been 
true. 

Dick — What in the world do you mean? 

John — I had been drinking that night, too, as you may recall 
— oh what a beast I am anyway? It's funny, but I can't seem to 



6o John Epps 

handle as much booze as the other fellows. I get silly while they 
are hardly warmed up. 

Dick — You haven't been overboard more than three or four 
times the whole year, John. 

John — But I've been overboard every time I drank at all, 
I reckon. And that night! I don't remember very much about 
it, to tell the truth. I've tried and tried to think just what I 
did. Coming home, you know! Dick, I can't remember. I 
can't remember. I seem to have been gloriously hilarious, coming 
down the street. I may have taken that damned portfolio after 
all. I'd give a hundred dollars if I knew. 

Dick — There, what did I tell you! That puts an entirely 
different complexion on the whole business. You simply picked 
it up for a joke, and then threw it away after a little, and then 
quite naturally forgot all about it. Nothing was ever said to you 
about it, was there? 

John — No, not until last night. Hill mentioned it in the 
room here, you may remember. I hadn't heard anything about 
it, and I never gave it a thought until Prexy sprung it on me over 
in the office this morning. 

Dick — Fine! That explains everything. I will.... 

John — No it doesn't, either. Not by a long shot! That 
assumes that Hill was honest in everything he said. Well of course 
he may have been, but between you and me, Dick, I don't believe 
it; I don't believe it. I haven't talked very much about my private 
affairs, even to you Dick. It just isn't my way, you know. But 
there was a good deal at stake between Hill and me; and that good 
deal was — Kate. I didn't know that Kate and mother were 
coming down yesterday; but he must have known; she may have 
told him about it in a letter; and then with his diabolical cunning 
he planned the whole beastly business of last night. And as for 
that other matter! I tell you Dick, I have thought this thing 
through until my head is ready to crack. I may have taken 
that portfolio. But — he may have taken it, either he or that 
roommate of his. He found out last night that I didn't know 
anything about it; the roommate is graduated and gone Heaven 



John Epps 6 1 

only knows where; so he just naturally takes advantage of Prexy's 
suspicion to throw the whole thing over on me. And if I knew 
that 

Dick — Hush, there is some one outside. 

John — That's Kate. You get out, and take the boy with you, 
Dick. I'm going through the valley now all right. 
(Enter Kate and Joey.) 

Kate — John! 

John — Yes, Kate. Dick, do you suppose there is any news? 

Dick — I'll see, John. Come on, bub. 
(Exeunt.) 

Kate — I have been looking for you all the afternoon. 

John — I've been out taking the air, somewhere. I think 
it was in Shutesbury. I thought you were going to Ingleside. 

Kate — Oh John, how could I? 

John — Kate, the sooner you bury this whole matter, and me 
with it, and forget, the better it will be for all concerned. It 
would have been easier, already, if you had gone to the regatta 
with Hill. Whatever may sometime be discovered about that 
portfolio, last night still stands. 

Kate — John, do you think that Hillyard lied about the port- 
folio? 

John — What else can I think? 

Kate — But John — this is what I have wanted to say — if 
I can. . . . 

John — It's all right, Kate, anyway; tell me. 

Kate — Well, you see John. . . .you didn't seem to know very 
much what was happening. . . .last night. . . .when you came in. 

John — Yes; go on, Kate. 

Kate — I wondered. . . .How much did you know that other 
night? 

John — Ah, that's the eternal hell of it. I don't know, Kate. 
I didn't know. 

Kate — But that would make a difference, wouldn't it John? 
I mean with the Colonel? With every one? 



62 'John Epps 

John — Kate, do you think that Hillyard told the truth this 



morning 



Kate — Yes John, I think he did. He's all cut up about the 
whole thing, John. You know he didn't say anything more to 
me about the boat race, nothing after this morning. I don't 
think that he wanted to go there either. 

John — Kate, did you write to Hillyard that you and mother 
were coming down to surprise me yesterday? 

Kate — No John, not a word. 

John — Could he have heard about it from Uncle Henry or 
in any other way? 

Kate — Why, no. We didn't know about it ourselves until 
yesterday morning. It was Joey's idea. We didn't plan it at 
all; we just started. 

John — He couldn't have known. 

Kate — No, John, he couldn't have known. 

John — Well, I guess that makes a good deal of a cad out of 
me. . . .It looks as though I owe Hill an apology. You say he 
didn't go to Ingleside? 

Kate — No, he's over at the boarding-house with Auntie. 

John — (at window) — Joey. 

Joey — Yep. 

John — Joey, run over and fetch Hillyard and my mother, 
will you. And make steps. 

Joey — Yep, I will. 

John — Drunkard, thief, liar — that is certainly a fine record 
for the son of Arthur Epps. 

(Sounds of excitement and galloping hoofs in the dis- 
tance, growing constantly nearer and louder, until at 
last the mighty voice of President Clark shouting to the 
bent of his lungs, "We've won! We've won!") 
That's wonderful. 

(Confusion continues, reaching into the hall; then Dick's 
voice — ) 
Dick — Come in this way, sir. 



John Epps 62 

(Enter Clark, Dick, and presently Goodell.) 
Oh, excuse me, John. 

Clark — That you, Epps? 

Dick — President Clark asked for a drink of water; so I 
brought him right in. (John exits and returns with dipper.) 
(Meanwhile — ) 

Clark — Just a sip, just a sip. I have been shouting the good 
new all the way through town. We have been driving furiously. 
Passed everything we saw this side of Ingleside, didn't we Goodell? 

Goodell — Mr. President, you were never more magnificently 
reckless. 

Clark — Ah, thank you Mr. Epps, thank you. 

John — It's not very good, I'm afraid. 

Clark — Delicious, actually delicious. Here Goodell, have 
some, (to Dick) I saw Professor Goessmann and Professor 
Stockbridge outside I think; won't you ask them to step in for a 
moment. 

Dick — I will, sir. (Exit.) 

Clark — Epps, drop into the office for a minute before you 
leave town to-morrow. 

John — Yes sir. 

Clark — Ah, what a day it has been! Want Ward on the 
faculty, Goodell? 

Goodell — Mr. President, the time will soon come when we 
shall want Ward, or a man like him, on the faculty. 

Clark — Right you are, right you are. Ah, here they come, 
(Enter Dick, Goessmann, Stockbridge, Patsy, Hank.) 

Stockbridge — We are delighted, Mr. President. 

Clark — Stockbridge, to-morrow all over the country people 
will be reading about M. A. C. Let me tell you about it. 

(Enter Hillyard, Mrs. Epps, Joey.) 
Madam, sit here. . . .We left Atherton out with the horses? 

Goodell — Yes sir. 

Clark — They're spent anyway. . . .Ah Goessmann you should 
have been there. The wind had died down. The water was as 
smooth as a mirror. Great fretted rifts of sunshine played over 



64 John Epps 

the shaggy sides of Mount Tom. The shores were packed with 
people, yes gentlemen, literally packed. Chicopee Bridge 
appeared as though a gigantic swarm of bees had settled there. 
Special trains were running back and forth from Springfield. 
There were any number of omnibuses with students from Brown. 
Harvard men, too, were everywhere. And everywhere our own 
boys, wearing their maroon and white — no more changing of our 
colors now, young men. I shouldn't dare to guess how many thou- 
sand spectators there were to see that race. Goodell and I found 
a place on the heights near the finish. There were all kinds of 
cheap talk, and a good many greenbacks in evidence. Men 
were betting on the outcome between Harvard and Brown; nobody 
seemed to give our crew a thought. The sunset was just beginning 
to color the west, when we heard a shot and knew that the race 
was on. It seemed years before the first tiny dot came into sight 
around the bend. We hadn't the least idea which boat it was. 
Every one said Harvard's; but no one knew. As a matter of fact, 
gentlemen, that leading boat was the one from M. A. C. 

Dick — Hurrah ! 

Clark — Yes, but we didn't know it though. Then the second 
boat appeared; and then the third. Jove, how we watched them! 
Along the shores rolled in a muffled cheering, as the boats swept 
forward and the unexpected word was passed along the line. 
The first boat was gaining all the time; the second was pulling 
away from the third. It flashed through my mind that that third 
boat might be ours, and my heart sank; and just then I heard 
some one shout, "By Jingo, it's Leonard — see the sun on his 
glasses." And then some one else, "Why, it's the damned 
farmers". I jumped to my feet and threw my hat in the air; at 
least that's what Goodell says. Josh Ward was yelling exultantly 
out to the crew, "Sock it to her, Georgie; sock it to her". And 
there came our beautiful boat, fairly leaping through the water, 
and finally streaking over the line a dozen good lengths in the lead. 
(A general buzz.) 

Joey — Gee, I'll bet Daniel Webster couldn't have told it 
like that. "Union and liberty"..., 



John Epps 6s 

Mrs. Epps — Joey, Joey; you mustn't be disrespectful. 
(Everyone shaking hands with someone else.) 

John — Hillyard. 

HiLLYARD — Yes, John. 

John — Right now, before any one goes away, I want to say 
just a word. . . .Hillyard, I apologize to you for what I said this 
morning. 

Clark— Eh? What's that? 

John — I have come to believe, sir, that I was guilty of hasty 
and unjust conclusions. 

Clark — Then your cousin's account of the portfolio was 
true. 

John — That, sir, I do not know. Unfortunately, however, 
I do not know that it wasn't. I am afraid that I was hardly re- 
sponsible at the time the portfolio disappeared. The whole story 
was a complete surprise to me this morning, and I denied it flatly. 
I have come to realize now that I was not in a position either to 
deny or to plead guilty. My mind is a total blank regarding what 
happened on my way home from Amherst that night. My 
cousin's account is doubtless correct. And as for the second thing 
I charged him with, I find that I was utterly in the wrong. In 
my anger I jumped to a conclusion which was wholly unwarranted 
by the facts. Hillyard, forgive me. 

Hillyard — The afi^air is closed, John. 

Clark — But is this credible, Mr. Epps? 

Hillyard — Certainly. I must confess that I wasn't quite 
generous as a witness. John had drunk no more than we had 
that night; but it affects him more quickly. It had occurred to 
me before now that he might not have known what he was doing 
when he snatched President Stearns' parcel. 

Clark — Indeed, indeed. John Epps, do you give me your 
word of honor that this statement you have made is true? 

John — Sir, I do. 

Clark — And I believe you, implicitly. Professor Goess- 
mann, hadn't we better reconsider that sentence of expulsion? 



66 John Epps 

GoESSMANN — Na yes, I tink so. But young man, hereafter 
you had better be more careful what you drink. 

John — It has come hard, sir, but I have learned my lesson. 
Believe me, everyone, I will never touch another drop as long as 
I live. 

HiLLYARD — Nor I either, John, and here's my hand on it. 
We have made a frightful mess of this whole affair, and in a 
final analysis I am afraid that it is really I who am to blame. 

GoESSMANN — Ah, and the young lady? Is this the young 
lady we heard spoken of? 

John — Yes, Professor, it is she. 

GoESSMANN — Yes. Well, my Fraulein, with both of these 
young lovers reformed, which will it be? 

Kate — Well, neither one, I guess. . . . 

GoESSMANN — Eh ? 

Kate — (with a glance at John) . . . .just yet. 

(The sound of a bell is heard.) 
Mrs. Epps — Oh Colonel, is it fire? 

Clark — No, madam, it is our chapel bell. It rings for 
victory. 

Curtain 



o 




John Epps 67 

THE ROISTER DOISTERS 

Prior to January 1910 dramatic productions at Massachusetts 
Agricultural College were simply class affairs. In the spring of 
1910, however, a constitution was drawn up for a club organized 
under the name of The Massachusetts Agricultural College 
Dramatic Society. The following year a three-act farcical comedy. 
The Private Secretary^ was presented, under the direction of Mr. 
and Mrs. J. K. Mills, in Amherst, Montague and Ware. 

In 1 91 2 the name Roister Bolsters, taken from the title of 
the first English comedy, was adopted. This season, under the 
leadership of George Zabriskie, 2nd, '13, the club presented 
fVhat Happened to JoneSy giving eight performances and taking 
the play on tour into New York and New Jersey. The following 
season saw the production of a farce, entitled The New Boy. 

The season of 1913-14 brought about the undertaking of 
two plays so successfully that the double bill has since become a 
custom. These plays were Mr. Kelley from Kalamazoo and 
Shakespere's Comedy of Errors, the latter being coached by 
Professor Smith of the Department of Language and Literature. 

In 1914-15 the society reached the stage of its greatest 
activity before the war. Besides presenting Her Husband's 
Wife, it successfully staged and took to Northampton a musical 
comedy written largely by Frank Anderson '16 and S. M. Massie 
and Hyde Smith, '15, and managed by James Nicholson, '16. 
It was entitled Pluto's Daughter. This was a notable production 
in itself, and especially as the only one originating in the society. 
Mr. Nicholson's management extended over the following season 
and two good plays were well presented: Under Cover at prom 
time and A Full House at commencement. It was this year 
that the Roister Doisters came under the supervision of the newly 
created Non-Athletic Activities Board. 

The program for 1916-17 was cut short by our declaration 
of war, and the only play that season was The Arrival of Kitty. 
The spring of 1919, however, found the club re-established, and 
the program for that year was Officer 666 and Are You a Mason? 



68 John Epps 

In 1920, under the leadership of Charles M. Boardman, '20, 
and Jonathan H. Smith, '21, the society gave the prom guests a 
very clever performance of Nothing but the Truth. At com- 
mencement it presented Augustus Thomas' well-known play, 
The Witching Hour. The outstanding feature of this season was 
the introduction, in the instance of the commencement play, of 
girls into the cast, thus making possible for the first time the 
production of something better than farce. 

It was about this time that the society became an advocate 
of "the best in drama", and that spirit has been evident through- 
out the current year. The production of A School for Scandal, 
that fine old classic by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, received some 
very gratifying compliments from discriminating critics and set 
a standard of which the undergraduate society is very proud. 

In looking back over a decade of growth the Roister Doisters 
on this, their tenth anniversary, take a pardonable pride in their 
record. They have become one of the most popular activities 
on the campus as is evidenced by the keen competition at try- 
outs. They are self-supporting, as is shown by the popularity 
of their productions and by a substantial balance in their 
treasury. Through their newspaper publicity they have become 
a decided factor in advertising the college. But best of all, in 
achieving these things, they are doing a cultural work worth 
while. 



SEMI-CENTENNIAL COMMENCEMENT 
PROGRAM 

FRIDAY, JUNE lo— CITIZENS' DAY 

io:oo Faculty-Senior Baseball Game, Alumni Field. 
I :oo Luncheon for invited guests. Dining Hall. 

3:00 Addresses by Secretary of Agriculture Wallace, Governor Cox and Com- 
missioner of Agriculture Gilbert, Auditorium Tent. 
6:45 Interclass Sing, Stockbridge Hall. 
8:00 Dramatics, John Epps, Bowker Auditorium. 

SATURDAY, JUNE 11— ALUMNI DAY 

9:00 Address by President Butterfield, Memorial Hall. 

9:30 Alumni Meeting, Memorial Hall. 

1:00 Alumni Dinner, Auditorium Tent. 

3:00 Alumni Parade. 

4:00 Amherst-Aggie Baseball Game, Alumni Field. 

7:00 Band Concert, South College Green. 

9:00 Fraternity Reunions. 

SUNDAY, JUNE 12— DEDICATION DAY 

10:30 Baccalaureate Address by President Butterfield, Auditorium Tent. 
3:00 Dedication of Memorial Hall, Memorial Hall. 
6:00 President's Reception, Rhododendron Garden. 

MONDAY, JUNE 13— ANNIVERSARY DAY 

8:30 Alumni Campus-Activity Leaders' Breakfasts, Dining Hall. 

9:00 Cavalry Drill. 

10:30 Class Day Exercises, Senior Fence. 

1 :30 Junior Frolic. 

2:30 Anniversary Meeting, Auditorium Tent. 

4:30 Sophomore-Freshman Baseball Game, Alumni Field. 

8:00 Dramatics, Second Performance oijohn Epps, Bowker Auditorium. 

TUESDAY, JUNE 14— COMMENCEMENT DAY 

10:30 Commencement Exercises, followed by President's Reception to the 

Seniors and their Guests, Auditorium Tent. 
8:00 Sophomore-Senior Hop, Memorial Hall. 



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